


New Traditions

by Sed



Series: Lionfang Week 2020 [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Celebrations, Clothing Kink, Clothing Porn, Culture, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: Lionfang Week Day 5 - CultureHumans had strange ideas about celebrating the milestones in their lives, and Anduin was certainly no exception.
Relationships: Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Lionfang Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837471
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32
Collections: Lionfang Prompt Week





	New Traditions

Varok hadn’t expected that his stay in Stormwind would include attending formal occasions.

In truth, he hadn’t expected much besides the business of war. But he had come to know some of the keep’s inhabitants, and even some of the common folk who lived in the city surrounding the great castle. In the months he had lived in Stormwind, he had forged something of a life for himself, and it suited him. He had no complaints.

Until he received an invitation, delivered to him by a page, requesting his presence for the king’s birthday celebration.

Varok had at first respected Anduin Wrynn, and then, as they worked together, he had come to admire him. How and when that admiration had turned into lust was beyond his understanding, but somewhere along the way he and Anduin had clashed—passionately. The first time in an empty corner of the library late at night, and then later in the dining room. The skin on his back still bore the latest welts from Anduin’s nails, and he could feel the bruise where Anduin had bitten his lower lip. Small reminders of this insatiable need that had simply overcome them one day, and then never left. There wasn’t much Anduin could ask for that Varok would refuse.

But attending Anduin’s birthday? He wasn’t sure about that. Humans had strange ideas about celebrating the milestones in their lives, and Anduin was certainly no exception.

He set the matter aside for the moment; the celebration wouldn’t take place for several weeks, and so he had ample time to make up his mind. Regardless of what he chose to do, he hoped it would not change things between himself and Anduin. Although their trysts were often brief by necessity, they had come to be the highlight of Varok’s time in Stormwind. Anduin was passionate, energetic, but most of all he was _creative_. That was a rare combination in a lover, and Varok had no desire to risk it. Not over something as simple as a single human tradition.

  
A week passed, and Varok nearly forgot about the looming specter of Anduin’s birthday. But as the date of the celebration approached, the castle transformed around him; flowers and garlands were hung in the halls, gifts were delivered from the far-flung corners of Azeroth, and nobles appeared from every crack and crevice of Stormwind society. In no time at all, Varok went from feeling as though he had all the time in the world to give his answer, to worrying that he had run out of time entirely. He almost asked Greymane for advice, but thought better of it. There was no telling what sort of answer he would receive from the worgen king. He and Greymane were grudging allies, and Varok was certain that peace was only contingent on the older king’s ignorance regarding just what it was he and Anduin got up to in the quiet, late hours of the evening. And sometimes in the middle of the day.

It wasn’t until Anduin cornered him after a war meeting that Varok realized he was out of time.

“Lord Saurfang, do you have a moment?” he said, feigning some official reason to hold Varok after the meeting.

Varok waited for the generals and admirals to file out of the room, and then the guards closed the door. “Yes?”

“Did you receive the invitation to my birthday?” Anduin asked. He dropped the pretend formality that they adopted around one another when others were present.

“I did,” Varok said.

“Are you going to attend?”

Varok hesitated. He didn’t quite know what to say. A part of him wanted very much to celebrate this occasion with the young king, but another part—a much larger, much _louder_ part—bucked at the idea of spending an evening surrounded by Stormwind’s preening nobility. They were not like Anduin. They weren’t even much like Greymane, for that matter.

“If you’re worried about standing out, there are ways you could try to fit in a bit more. But only if you want to,” Anduin quickly added. “You are not required to change any part of yourself for the comfort of my guests.”

That was something Varok liked very much about Anduin: he was practical, and he was considerate. Varok knew that if he refused, even if he offered no explanation at all, Anduin would accept his answer. He would undoubtedly be disappointed, but he would respect the decision and do so gracefully.

A rare thing, indeed. He sighed. “Yes, I will be there,” he found himself saying.

Anduin’s joy was almost enough to erase the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach. Almost.

“Excellent,” Anduin said. He moved a little closer, looking up at Varok with a smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes and made them glitter in the lamplight. “I can’t wait.” He reached up to draw his fingertips along the collar of Varok’s tabard, just barely brushing his bare skin. “In the meantime,” he said quietly, “perhaps we could begin the celebration early. I have some… ideas.”

In hindsight, it might have been a mistake to agree so easily. Varok simply could not bring himself to regret the decision.

  
With each passing day, the need to properly carry out this one task became more and more pressing. Varok found himself fretting over what to say, how to behave, and perhaps most distressing of all, how to _dress_.

It was Greymane who had accidentally informed him of the dress code; an offhand remark about the quality of Varok’s clothing beneath his armor had prompted questions regarding just what he might be expected to wear. Apparently the women would be dressed in their finest silk gowns and richest furs, and the men would wear finely tailored suits. Anduin had told him not to worry about his own attire, but Varok couldn’t help wondering just what sort of spectacle he would make, showing up to a human’s birthday in his armor. For that was exactly what he would have worn to any such occasion in Orgrimmar. He might have left behind his massive, spiked pauldrons and face plate, but he would have had no need to change anything else. Humans, on the other hand, were… peacocks. Birds flashing their feathers for one another in an intricate and seemingly endless display. Varok had no need of such pageantry, but he knew it was Anduin’s way. And more than anything, he wished to honor Anduin.

“I will need new clothing,” he told the tailor in Old Town one evening. He was an older man, who likely had every reason to despise Varok’s kind, but who had always been quite friendly to him regardless. He operated a small shop in a quiet corner of the small district, and he didn’t mind taking his payment in coins stamped with the Horde sigil. In the past, Varok had only ever needed his assistance mending the ever-growing number of tears in his tabard. This was going to be another matter entirely.

“I am going to attend the king’s birthday,” he explained, setting a bag of gold coins on the counter.

The old tailor looked him over, humming thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of fabric,” he said, mostly muttering to himself. “I’ll have to work night and day to have it done in time.”

“The cost is no matter.”

“Oh, it’s not the cost,” the tailor said. He pulled out a long white tape and began taking measurements of Varok’s arms, his waist, his shoulders, and seemingly everywhere else that might potentially be relevant to the task. When he was done, he stepped back and gave him another once-over. “Eight days,” he said.

“The king’s birthday is in nine days.”

“Aye, we’ll be cutting it close.” The tailor promptly barked a laugh. He slapped his knee and wiped a tear from his eye. “Cutting. Get it?”

Varok frowned at him. He did get it. He simply wished he hadn’t.

“You have any preference for the color?” the tailor asked him after he finished laughing at his own joke. “Don’t say green.”

“Why would I… Never mind. Choose the color, I will trust your judgment.”

The tailor bobbed his head in agreement and started scribbling notes on a piece of paper. “You’ll need a gift, of course,” he said. It was likely only meant as an offhand remark. Something to keep the conversation going while he finished up writing the details of the work he would need to do. Varok saw him scratch out _high collar_ , and replace it with _coat tails_. He feared for what sort of preening songbird he might become in this man’s hands.

“A gift?” he grunted. Wasn’t attending the damned celebration enough to ask of one orc? He had seen gifts arriving at the keep almost daily, but he had always assumed those were sent by lords and ladies and other well-wishers who could not attend. He was meant to do both?

The tailor looked up. “Aye? It’s tradition. Don’t you orcs have birthday parties?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, King Anduin isn’t the greedy sort, so he’ll likely not mind. He’s like his father that way. But it’s proper, and you should do it if only to be polite.”

“Is there anything else I need to know about this tradition?”

The tailor scratched his whiskered chin and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Can you dance?” he asked.

  
The night of the party, Varok donned the strange new suit he had purchased, gave all the silver rings and piercings that adorned his face, mouth, and ears a good polish, and braided his hair as neatly as his big fingers could manage. He stood before the full-length mirror in his chambers and frowned. He felt very, very strange.

His suit consisted of a coat with long tails made from a rich, dark brown fabric. It was embroidered at the collar, cuffs, and along the breast in intertwining silver and gold thread. The buttons that dotted his chest between the loops and curls of shining thread were made of antiqued silver, and stamped with rampant lions. Beneath the coat he wore a matching vest, and a white shirt of very soft linen. A cravat lay tucked within the collar. It was some strange material he could not name; like silk but much thicker, and decorated with silver and gold leaves. His trousers were black, and his leather shoes, which the tailor had complained were a special rush order from Lakeshire, shined like onyx.

It wasn’t _bad_ , exactly. In fact, the longer he looked at it, the more he liked it. But it was different.

In one hand he held the small box wrapped in plain paper that contained Anduin’s gift. It wasn’t much; Anduin was a king, and likely didn’t want for anything. But there were some things Varok could give him that he thought Anduin would enjoy. He hoped the gift he had chosen might be one of them.

The celebration was held in the large ballroom within Stormwind Keep, which was only ever used for very formal occasions—such as a king’s birthday. Varok entered to the respectful bows of the servants who opened the wide double doors, and immediately found himself bombarded by sound, color, and movement. There were hundreds of guests in attendance, and some two or three dozen of them abruptly turned to take in the sight of the orc in a suit who had come to pay his respects to the king. Some smiled, and others chuckled, but Varok didn’t care about their approval or their judgment. All that mattered was Anduin.

He found the young king in the midst of a throng of fawning nobles, all vying for his attention for one reason or another. Varok easily towered over most of them, and so he stood just outside of the circle, across from Anduin. He waited for the king to meet his eye.

When he did, Anduin’s entire demeanor changed. He lit up like the twinkling chandeliers overhead, and seemed to forget that anyone else was there. The smile he wore was for Varok alone, and it was as if they were the only two people in the entire keep. Perhaps in the entire city.

“Lord Saurfang,” Anduin said, remembering propriety in time to keep from making a scene, but not quickly enough to keep the slightly breathless quality from his voice.

Anduin was, of course, bedecked in blue and gold fabric of the finest quality. It was much like his daily attire, but far more richly decorated, and much more contoured to his figure. Varok found it very, very pleasing. The suit was not meant for daily wear, like his other, but cut to strike an impressive figure. And impress it did.

“I brought you a gift,” Varok said, holding out the small package.

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” Anduin took the box and looked at it as though it was studded in precious gems. “Thank you very much,” he said.

The fawning nobles dispersed, apparently convinced their king would not be drawn away from his strange guest for some time. Varok hoped they were correct; he could have spent the entire evening in Anduin’s company and never tired of it. He was certain of that.

But before he could bask in Anduin’s beauty and charm, there was something he needed to address. He looked around to make sure no one might overhear. “I cannot dance,” he said.

Anduin looked at him strangely. “You…”

“Dancing. I was told I might need to. I don’t know how.” Not any way that a human would appreciate, anyway. There was nothing most races of the Horde liked better than a good celebration, but theirs were of a far different sort. No finery, no dainty meal courses, and no formal dances.

“Oh,” Anduin said quietly. He seemed confused. “I don’t think you will be expected to.”

Varok nodded.

“Unless you wanted to try?” Anduin asked.

“I—no, not really. Did you want to?”

“With you?”

Varok suddenly felt very uncomfortable with the entire conversation. Had he misunderstood something? “Or… perhaps someone else…” he hedged.

“I would love to dance with you,” Anduin said. “But you can’t dance, and I can only dance with certain people, unfortunately.”

The look Varok gave him must have made his confusion clear, because he explained, “There are certain expectations of a king. Especially a king with no queen. And regardless of what that king may want for himself.”

“So, no dancing,” Varok confirmed. “Will I see much of you?”

“It’s very unlikely,” Anduin said regretfully. “A king’s duty never ends, not even on his birthday. But you are an honored guest, and I have seen to it you will be seated with Genn and Mia. I wanted to be certain you would have someone to talk to.”

That was a relief. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer through an evening surrounded by quiet strangers. At nearly the same moment, he caught sight of two humans he didn’t know from the corner of his eye; they were eyeing him strangely, but in a way that made him _very_ aware of what they might like to do with him—or to him. He made a face, and Anduin snickered.

“Lord and Lady Blay. You should feel flattered, they are very selective about their… playmates,” he said with a smirk.

“They wish to—”

“Yes,” Anduin said before he could ask his entire question. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is most likely yes.”

Lady Blay winked at him. Varok hummed thoughtfully, and Anduin scoffed. “Genn,” he said, gesturing for the Gilnean to join them. “Why don’t you help Lord Saurfang find his seat?”

Varok wanted to object, but it would be difficult to do with Greymane there. Instead, he frowned at Anduin when Greymane turned his back, and ignored the smug little smile he received in return. He had little choice but to follow the worgen king, leaving Anduin behind to mingle with his various guests.

  
As Anduin had predicted, Varok barely saw the young king for the rest of the evening. He caught sight of him here and there, laughing and talking with the other lords and ladies, or taking a much-needed break while Greymane acted as a furry shield. But Anduin was almost always on the move, and Varok found himself wondering why he had even thrown the party if it would prove to be such a chore.

“It’s expected of him,” Mia Greymane had explained when Varok asked as much. “Anduin knows his duty, even if he does not necessarily appreciate it.”

Varok considered that for some time. It was no wonder Anduin always seemed anxious to sneak away. Those minutes or hours they managed to steal from his ever-pressing duties were a rare reprieve from a life that had been dictated for him since birth.

By the time the event started drawing to a close, Varok had counted a whole eleven times he’d managed to spot Anduin through the crowd. Only one of those times had he passed close enough to offer an encouraging smile to the young king. Mia bid him good evening, and Greymane was still fielding sycophants for the king, leaving Varok at the table alone. He waited for a break in the seemingly endless sea of well-wishers looking to have a moment with the king, hoping to catch Anduin’s eye. When he did, he dipped his head in a slight bow, and then looked to the door. It was a clear enough message, expressing both his gratitude for the hospitality, and his intention to retire for the evening. To anyone who happened to catch the exchange, it would appear as nothing more than a bit of harmless, silent communication.

Anduin, however, would know it for the invitation it was.

Varok made his way up the keep to his chambers, and then he waited. It was close to an hour before he heard a tentative knock at his door. He opened it quickly, expecting to find Anduin on the other side, but the smile dropped from his face when he found himself facing another page.

“A message for you,” the page said. He held out the little folded piece of paper for Varok to take.

The page left, and Varok sat down with the note. It was hastily sealed, but the effort made it clear that the contents had been intended only for him. He broke the seal and read what it contained.

 _Don’t change,_ it said. Just two simple words in Common, written in an elegant script.

At first he was baffled, but when he identified the handwriting as Anduin’s, those two words began to make a bit more sense. And then he thought back to that first, eager look in Anduin’s eyes when he caught sight of Varok in his formal suit, and they made a great deal more sense. After that, Varok’s mood brightened considerably.

  
When Anduin appeared, he was dragging his feet, weary in a way Varok had rarely seen. “Anduin?” he asked as the king shuffled past into his chambers.

“I’m alright,” Anduin sighed. “Only tired.”

“Yes, that is what concerns me.”

Anduin chuckled. “It’s noted and appreciated, but unnecessary.” Varok shut the door, and Anduin seemed to gain new life and purpose in an instant. His arms came up to drape over Varok’s shoulders, and he smiled impishly. “By my count,” he purred, leaning into Varok’s body, “it is still my birthday for a little less than twenty minutes.”

Varok rumbled his curiosity, bringing his hands up to massage Anduin’s back, his shoulders, and finally his neck. Anduin groaned and leaned into his touch. “I want one more gift tonight,” he said.

“Oh?” Varok arched a brow and ducked in to draw his lips across Anduin’s. “And what might that be?” Without waiting for the answer, he spun Anduin toward the bed, pressing him down onto the plush quilt with his own weight. Anduin seemed happiest when he was almost smothered beneath Varok’s greater mass, and though Varok did not entirely understand it, he nevertheless indulged his lover. At the same time, he rocked against him, letting him feel his desire. Anduin whimpered and reached down to palm at Varok’s hard length beneath his trousers.

“I want you to stay dressed,” Anduin said. “Just like that.” He giggled at the skeptical look that earned him, and explained, “ _Most_ of that. These,” he said, tugging at the clasp of Varok’s trousers, “will need some adjusting.” His hand slid back down to cup Varok’s cock through the fabric, and he rubbed at it with the heel of his palm.

Anduin wanted Varok to fuck him in his new suit. The thought was unexpectedly thrilling. “And what will you wear?” he asked.

“Whatever you would like. You can have me on my hands and knees, with my pants pulled down around my thighs as you hold my hips and take me at your leisure.”

Varok growled into Anduin’s neck, closing his sharp teeth around the soft skin of his throat.

“Or,” Anduin went on. He drew out the sound for several seconds. “You could strip me bare. Rip the clothing from my body, pin me to the bed, and ravage me. So hungry for it that you only have time to pull your cock out and spread me open.”

Spirits, his imagination was both a blessing and a curse. Varok felt his heart skip a beat at the prospect of simply surrendering to his need and taking Anduin as he wished. It was heady feeling. The power Anduin was offering him pounded through his veins, in his temples, and made his cock ache.

“But that isn’t the only gift I want from you,” Anduin said.

All of Varok’s lustful scheming came to an abrupt halt, and he leaned up to look at Anduin. “It isn’t?”

Anduin shook his head slowly. His golden hair was fanned out around him, and in the candlelight it was radiant. “I want you to spend the night with me.”

“I have done—”

“And the morning. And all day tomorrow. I want to be with you, if only for one day. No stolen moments, no secret rendezvous, no shy glances. Just one day that I can pretend this is normal. That we can simply _be_.”

By the time he had finished speaking, Varok understood completely. He bent his head to Anduin’s and nuzzled his cheek. “Of course,” he said. “But won’t you be missed? You are the king. As I was informed just tonight, a king’s duty never ends.”

“Except for one day every year.” Anduin held up a single finger between them. He smiled. “I cannot escape the expectations placed upon me at my birth, but I can take a single day for myself.”

“Not your birthday?”

“Well, a grand celebration is expected of a king, and I would cause more problems than I solved if I tried to do away with that. But the day _after_ …”

“Ah, I see,” Varok muttered. He breathed the words into Anduin’s ear, delighting in the shiver it caused.

“The entire keep is under strict orders not to disturb me. Even Genn gives me the day. No missives, no emergencies, no _war_. One day.” He tilted his head to catch Varok’s eye. “And I wish to spend it with you.”

Varok watched him for a moment, torn between desire, devotion, and incredible respect for the young king whose life was dictated by the responsibilities that ruled him as surely as if he were their subject, instead. Anduin wanted a gift that Varok could not buy, but had all the means to give him. He thought of the little package, and the paltry trinket tucked within.

“Well,” he said, shifting again to grind his clothed cock against Anduin’s. It earned him a gasp, and heavy, dark eyes that looked up at him with all the same feeling thrumming through Varok’s chest. He reached down to open his trousers the rest of the way, watching Anduin’s gaze turn hungry and sharp as he did so. “In that case, all that is left is to decide how I want you now.”

Anduin groaned and arched against him, and Varok pinned him down again. “How you want me _first_ ,” he corrected with a mischievous leer.

The decision more or less made itself after that.


End file.
